Godric's Blade
by GodricG89
Summary: An alternative take on fifth year. What would happen if Harry was part of a greater legacy than he thought. A choice of words and a magical heirloom provide a branching point from canon. Begins with the dementor attack on Harry and Dudley. H/Hr, Magically powerful Harry, Mildly manipulative and misguided Dumbledore. Mild Weasley Bashing. Significant family history of the Potters.
1. A Choice of Words

AN: I've worked on this story, among others, off and on for the past few years. I've read quite a bit of fanfiction, but never posted anything before. This has not been checked by a beta, so any comments are welcome. I have no ownership of any sort for Harry Potter or any of its associated characters or entities, I'm just a bored 23 year old exploring a hobby.

This initial chapter has a fair bit of text from the first and second chapters of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix; 'Dudley Demented' and 'A Peck of Owls'. I've used it to intertwine the beginnings of my own story and provide the branching point with canon. JKR's text is bolded. While most of it is left unchanged, I have added or omitted segments as necessary for it to fit my amended backgound. I'm aware its often repetitive to drudge through, however it should only feature in this first chapter to serve as a foundation.

As stated in the summary this will be an H/Hr story. Harry will be significantly powerful, but hopefully not unbelievably so. I plan to delve a bit deeper into the history of the Potter family and Harry's heritage as a member of magical society. He will be moderately wealthy, as any upper class family with the pedigree I'm aiming for should be. Generations of political, business, and magical leaders have left Harry with a significant inheritance.

Warnings: H/hr, mild to moderate Dumbledore bashing, potential FF slash relationship, mild Weasley bashing (primarily Ron but may feature some Molly or Ginny as well).

I hope that you enjoy my little experiment.

- Godric

Harry was lost in thought as he sat on the last remaining swing in the park. His recent run in with Uncle Vernon over the news and the mysterious apparition had led him to think of how he had been virtually shut out of all goings on in the wizarding world for the past month and a half. It was now the first week of August and he had heard virtually nothing since school let out in mid June.

Ron had yet to write him, and Sirius and Remus were both apparently very busy with whatever anti-Voldemort plans Dumbledore had going. He had exchanged regular letters through the muggle mail with Hermione, but she was just as isolated as he was, back at her parents' home in Muggle London for the summer. As great as it was to talk to his friend about normal teenage issues like nerves over exam results, her families upcoming trip to America, and the difficulties she's had with convincing Viktor Krum that going to last year's Yule ball together and a kiss on the hand at the end of the night did not a relationship make, he couldn't help but wish that he knew more about what was really going on.

Harry was beginning to feel completely useless; despite the fact that he had proven himself against not only Death Eaters and various magical monsters and other difficulties over the past four years, but Voldemort himself on three occasions now, four if you count the diary-Riddle the adults refused to allow him any scrap of information. He felt like a discarded book, just lying around until the powers that be decided to pick him up again.

**He did not know how long he had sat on the swing before the sound of voices interrupted his ****musings and he looked up. The streetlamps from the surrounding roads were casting a misty ****glow strong enough to silhouette a group of people making their way across the park. One of ****them was singing a loud, crude song. The others were laughing. A soft ticking noise came from ****several expensive racing bikes that they were wheeling along.**

**Harry knew who those people were. The figure in front was unmistakably his cousin, Dudley ****Dursley, wending his way home, accompanied by his faithful gang. Dudley was as vast as ever, but a year's hard dieting and the discovery of a new talent had wrought quite a change in his physique. As Uncle Vernon delightedly told anyone who would listen, Dudley had recently become the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast. 'The noble sport', as Uncle Vernon called it, had made Dudley even more formidable than he had seemed to Harry in their primary school days when he had served as Dudley's first punching bag. Harry was not remotely afraid of his cousin any more but he still didn't think that Dudley learning to punch harder and more accurately was cause for celebration.**

**Neighborhood children all around were terrified of him - even more terrified than they were of 'that Potter boy' who, they had been warned, was a hardened hooligan and attended St. Brutus's ****Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Harry watched the dark figures crossing the grass and wondered who they had been beating up tonight. If Dudley's friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn't want to lose face in front of the gang, but he'd be terrified of provoking Harry… it would be really fun to watch Dudley's dilemma, to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond… and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, he was ready - he had his wand. Let them try… he'd love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell.**

**But they didn't turn around, they didn't see him, they were almost at the railings. Harry mastered the impulse to call after them… seeking a fight was not a smart move… he must not use magic… he would be risking expulsion again. **

**The voices of Dudley's gang died away; they were out of sight, heading along Magnolia Road. ****_There you go, Sirius, _****Harry thought dully. _Nothing rash. Kept my nose clean. Exactly the _****_opposite of what you_****'_d have done._**

**He got to his feet and stretched. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon seemed to feel that whenever Dudley turned up was the right time to be home and any time after that was much too late. ****Uncle Vernon had threatened to lock Harry in the shed if he came home after Dudley ever again, ****so, stifling a yawn, and still scowling, Harry set off towards the park gate.**

**Magnolia Road, like Privet Drive, was full of large, square houses with perfectly manicured ****lawns, all owned by large, square owners who drove very clean cars similar to Uncle Vernon's. ****Harry preferred Little Whinging by night, when the curtained windows made patches of jewel bright color in the darkness and he ran no danger of hearing disapproving mutters about his 'delinquent' appearance when he passed the householders. He walked quickly, so that halfway along Magnolia Road Dudley's gang came into view again; they were saying their farewells at the entrance to Magnolia Crescent. Harry stepped into the shadow of a large lilac tree and waited until the others had gone and only Dudley remained.**

** "Hey, Big D!"**

**Dudley turned. "Oh," he grunted. "It's you." **

**"How long have you been 'Big D' then?" said Harry. **

**"Shut it," snarled Dudley, turning away. **

**"Cool name," said Harry, grinning and falling into step beside his cousin. "But you'll always be ****'Ickle Diddykins' to me."**

**"I said, SHUT IT!" said Dudley, whose ham-like hands had curled into fists. **

**"Don't the boys know that's what your mum calls you?" **

**"Shut your face." **

**"You don't tell her to shut her face. What about 'Popkin' and 'Dinky Diddydums', can I use ****them then?"**

**Dudley said nothing. The effort of keeping himself from hitting Harry seemed to demand all his self-control.**

**"So who've you been beating up tonight?" Harry asked, his grin fading. "Another ten-year-old? I know you did Mark Evans two nights ago -" **

**"He was asking for it," snarled Dudley. **

**"Oh yeah?" **

**"He cheeked me." **

**"Yeah? Did he say you look like a pig that's been taught to walk on its hind legs? Cause that's ****not cheek, Dud, that's true."**

**A muscle was twitching in Dudley's jaw. It gave Harry enormous satisfaction to know how ****furious he was making Dudley; he felt as though he was siphoning off his own frustration into ****his cousin, the only outlet he had.**

**They turned right down the narrow alleyway where Harry had first seen Sirius and which formed a short cut between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. It was empty and much darker than the streets it linked because there were no streetlamps. Their footsteps were muffled between ****garage walls on one side and a high fence on the other. "Think you're a big man carrying that thing, don't you?" Dudley said after a few seconds.**

**"What thing?" **

**"That - that thing you are hiding." **

**Harry grinned again. **

**"Not as stupid as you look, are you, Dud? But I s'pose, if you were, you wouldn't be able to walk and talk at the same time."****Harry pulled out his wand. He saw Dudley look sideways at it.**

**"You're not allowed," Dudley said at once. "I know you're not. You'd get expelled from that ****freak school you go to."**

**"How d'you know they haven't changed the rules, Big D?" **

**"They haven't," said Dudley, though he didn't sound completely convinced. **

**Harry laughed softly.**

**"You haven't got the guts to take me on without that thing, have you?" Dudley snarled.**

**"Whereas you just need four mates behind you before you can beat up a ten year old. You know that boxing title you keep banging on about? How old was your opponent? Seven? Eight?" **

**"He was sixteen, for your information," snarled Dudley, "and he was out cold for twenty minutes after I'd finished with him and he was twice as heavy as you. You just wait till I tell Dad you had that thing out –" **

**"Running to Daddy now, are you? Is his ickle boxing champ frightened of nasty Harry's wand?" **

**"Not this brave at night, are you?" sneered Dudley. **

**"This is night, Diddykins. That's what we call it when it goes all dark like this." **

**"I mean when you're in bed!" Dudley snarled. **

**He had stopped walking. Harry stopped too, staring at his cousin. **

**From the little he could see of Dudley's large face, he was wearing a strangely triumphant look. "What d'you mean, I'm not brave when I'm in bed?" said Harry, completely nonplussed. "What ****am I supposed to be frightened of, pillows or something?"**

** "I heard you last night," said Dudley breathlessly. "Talking in your sleep. Moaning."**

**"What d'you mean?" Harry said again, but there was a cold, plunging sensation in his stomach. He had revisited the graveyard last night in his dreams.** Other similar nightmares had been plaguing him on and off all summer.

**Dudley gave a harsh bark of laughter then adopted a high-pitched whimpering voice. ****"'Don't kill Cedric! Don't kill Cedric!' Who's Cedric - your boyfriend?"**

**"I - you're lying," said Harry automatically. But his mouth had gone dry. He knew Dudley wasn't lying - how else would he know about Cedric? **

**"**Mum**! Help me, Dad**! I'm trapped**, Dad! Boo hoo!" **

**"Shut up," said Harry quietly. "Shut up, Dudley, I'm warning you!" **

"No, not Hermione, don't you dare hurt her! No, not her t**- don't you point that thing at me!" ****Dudley backed into the alley wall. Harry was pointing the wand directly at Dudley's heart. Harry ****could feel fourteen years' hatred of Dudley pounding in his veins - what wouldn't he give to ****strike now, to jinx Dudley so thoroughly he'd have to crawl home like an insect, struck dumb, ****sprouting feelers…**

**"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry snarled. "D'you understand me?" **

**"Point that thing somewhere else!" **

**"I said, do you understand me?" **

**"Point it somewhere else!" **

**"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" **

**"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM -" **

**Dudley gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though he had been doused in icy water. ****Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch black and ****lightless - the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished. The ****distant rumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly ****piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though ****some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding them.**

**For a split second Harry thought he had done magic without meaning to, despite the fact that ****he'd been resisting as hard as he could - then his reason caught up with his senses - he didn't have the power to turn off the stars. He turned his head this way and that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on his eyes like a weightless veil. Dudley's terrified voice broke in Harry's ear.**

**"W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!" **

**"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!" **

**"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I -" **

**"I said shut up!" **

**Harry stood stock still, turning his sightless eyes left and right. The cold was so intense he was ****shivering all over; goose bumps had erupted up his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck ****were standing up - he opened his eyes to their fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing. ****It was impossible… they couldn't be here… not in Little Whinging… he strained his ears… he ****would hear them before he saw them…**

**"I'll t-tell Dad!" Dudley whimpered. "W-where are you? What are you d-do—?" **

**"Will you shut up?" Harry hissed, "I'm trying to lis —" **

**But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been dreading. ****There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing ****air.**

**"C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"**

**"Dudley, shut—" **

**WHAM.**

In his fear Dudley had launched a blind, flailing punch, and his **fist made contact **with Harry's jaw, splitting his lip and **lifting him off his feet. Small white lights popped in front of his eyes. Next moment, he had landed hard on the ground and his wand had flown out of his hand. **

**"You moron, Dudley!" Harry yelled, his eyes watering with pain as he scrambled to his hands ****and knees, carelessly wiping his bleeding mouth with his hand while**** feeling around frantically in the blackness. Judging from the strength of the chill and the extent of the darkness there had to be close to a dozen dementors closing in; without his wand he had no way of defending himself or his cousin. ****He heard Dudley blundering away, hitting the alley fence, stumbling.**

**"DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT THEM!" There was a horrible squealing yell and Dudley's footsteps stopped. At the same moment, Harry felt a creeping chill behind him that could mean only one thing.** They were beginning to surround them. "**DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR** HEAD DOWN AND YOUR **MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! Wand!" Harry muttered frantically, his hands flying over the ground like spiders. "Where's - wand -come on** –I wish I had some help here!"

Suddenly his hand closed around something large and solid. It wasn't his wand, but the moment Harry grasped it he was surrounded by a dull red glow. In the new light he could see that he was now holding the Sword of Gryffindor and that there were at least half a dozen dementors closing in. Out of nowhere a voice seemed to echo; "Behind you, Swing!" Without looking Harry spun and lashed out with the magical blade, catching one dementor across the chest and earning a shrill cry as it rapidly retreated. The other dementors seemed to sense that this enchanted steel could actually harm them for they too began to fade into the darkness, warmth and light returning in their wake.

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw his wand lying near a bush. Just as he was about to step towards it another scream echoed from the far end of the alley. "Dudley!" Without thinking Harry reached for his wand, an effortless, subconscious tendril of magic pulling it the remaining ten feet to his hand as he ran off to aid his cousin. As Harry came around a large dumpster he saw that another four or five dementors had backed Dudley into a corner, where he had passed out. They were closing in and preparing to administer the kiss. Once again a few clumsy swings of the magical blade seemed to be enough to chase them off.

As the glow from the streetlamps grew outward and the temperature rose, Harry looked down at the length of steel in his hand. _How did I summon this?_ He was so surprised when the voice spoke again that he jumped and nearly dropped both the sword and his wand.

"This sword has always been available to a member of the family in need." Though Harry looked around he could not identify the source of the voice. He realized that the sword, much like the sorting hat, had its own consciousness and could speak in his mind. "Right on the nose my boy!" The voice confirmed his suspicions.

_If you can talk, why didn't you speak to me when I was fighting the basilisk? _"

"I am an impression of Godric Gryffindor. Near the end of my life I chose to leave some of my conscience in this blade, much like the other founders and I did with the sorting hat. Once they've claimed the sword, any direct descendant of mine can summon this sword to aid them. Although, I remembered Salazar's betrayal, so I placed the spells and enchantments in such a way that in order for my progeny to communicate with me they had to give the sword a blood sample, to prove that they were in fact one of my true descendants, and not someone who happened to find the sword. When you used the sword to slay the serpent, you did not touch it with any of your own blood. When you picked up the sword this evening, your hand was smeared with it, so the enchantments activated and brought my personality to the surface again. This is the first time I've been fully awake in almost two hundred years."

To say that Harry was surprised would have been an understatement. He was related to Godric Gryffindor! _So you're Godric? And I'm your something-something great grandson? _"Yes, well sort of, and yes. You are the last remaining direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor and his wife Rowena Ravenclaw. However, I am not Godric. Not exactly. I'm not a ghost or spirit, or even a memory. I'm an imprint of Grodric's thoughts and feeling; His knowledge and his wishes to protect and guide his family. However, you may do as has been done before and call me Godric if that will be easier for you. We may wish to continue this discussion later. I believe your companion is coming around, and this does not appear to be a very safe place, should your enemies return.

While Harry hid his wand and turned back to Dudley, he questioned Godric further._ You can see?_ "In a manner of speaking, while I do not possess eyes or ears, I can observe the world around me though my connection to you, and by monitoring the magical fields that the sword interacts with. I could tell by this man's strengthening life force and aura that he was returning to consciousness, and I knew that we were in an alley because you know that we are in an alley. Just as I have no mouth, I speak to you because your mind is linked to my consciousness by the bond created by your blood." _Oh, that makes sense …I guess."_

Harry held the sword in one hand and used the other to pull **one of Dudley's massive arms around his own shoulders and dragged **the semi-conscious boy **towards the road, sagging slightly under the weight. It was not easy **to hold the sword in a way that it wouldn't inadvertently stab someone** and haul Dudley along at the same time. **

**Harry gave his cousin an impatient dig in the ribs, but Dudley seemed to have lost all desire for independent movement. He was slumped on Harry's shoulder, his large feet dragging along the ground. **"God Dud, when are you going to learn to lay off the sweets?"** He gave the semi-conscious Dudley a heave and staggered onwards. **

He could only imagine what gossip the sight of him carrying a barely there Dudley down the street with a sword would inspire among the neighbors** as they turned into Privet Drive. **He could already see several of the neighbors peaking through their windows at the pair. **Scowling, ****Harry readjusted Dudley on his shoulder and made his slow, painful way up number four's ****garden path.**

**The hall light was on. Harry stuck his **arm out and used the tip of the sword to ring** the bell and watched Aunt Petunia's outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the rippling glass ****in the front door.**

**"Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite - quite -Diddy, what's the matter!" **

**Harry looked sideways at Dudley and ducked out from under his arm just in time. Dudley swayed on the spot for a moment, his face pale green… then he opened his mouth and vomited all over the doormat. **

**"DIDDY! Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!" **

**Harry's uncle came galumphing out of the living room, walrus moustache blowing hither and thither as it always did when he was agitated. He hurried forwards to help Aunt Petunia negotiate a weak-kneed Dudley over the threshold while avoiding stepping in the pool of sick. **

**"He's ill, Vernon!" **

**"What is it, son? What's happened? Did Mrs. Polkiss give you something foreign for tea?" **

**"Why are you all covered in dirt, darling? Have you been lying on the ground?" **

**"Hang on - you haven't been mugged, have you, son?" **

**Aunt Petunia screamed. "Phone the police, Vernon! Phone the police! Diddy, darling, speak to Mummy! What did they do to you?" **

**In all the kerfuffle nobody seemed to have noticed Harry**, or the large sword he somehow managed to keep from being seen**, which suited him perfectly. He managed to slip inside just before Uncle Vernon slammed the door and, while the Dursleys made their noisy progress down the hall towards the kitchen, Harry moved carefully and quietly towards the stairs.**

** "Who did it, son? Give us names. We'll get them, don't worry." **

**"Shh! He's trying to say something, Vernon! What is it, Diddy? Tell Mummy!" **

**Harry's foot was on the bottom-most stair when Dudley found his voice. "Him." Harry froze, foot on the stair, face screwed up, braced for the explosion. **

**"BOY! COME HERE!" **

**With a feeling of mingled dread and anger, Harry removed his foot slowly from the stair and ****turned to follow the Dursleys. The scrupulously clean kitchen had an oddly unreal glitter after the darkness outside. Aunt Petunia was ushering Dudley into a chair; he was still very green and clammy-looking. Uncle Vernon standing in front of the draining board, glared at Harry through tiny, narrowed eyes.**

**"What have you done to my son?" he said in a menacing growl. **"And where the bloody hell did you get that?" His uncle gestured wildly at the glittering blade.

**"Nothing," said Harry, knowing perfectly well that Uncle Vernon wouldn't believe him.** "And this is a magical artifact that belongs to my family. It helps when we are in times of need."

The mention of the 'm' word obviously penetrated his rage and effected his uncle. "M-ma-m…Freaky you say? Well…put the bloody thing away, you won't need it here unless you need a crutch to hobble up the stairs if you don't start explaining things!" Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Harry placed the sword on the counter behind him.

**"What did he do to you, Diddy?" Aunt Petunia said in a quavering voice, now sponging sick from the front of Dudley's leather jacket. "Was it - was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use – his thing? **Did he do something with that sword?**" **

**Slowly, tremulously, Dudley nodded. **

**"I didn't!" Harry said sharply, as Aunt Petunia let out a wail and Uncle Vernon raised his fists. "I didn't do anything to him, it wasn't me-"**

** "Was," muttered Dudley unexpectedly, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia instantly made flapping gestures at Harry to quieten him while they both bent low over Dudley. **

**"Go on, son," said Uncle Vernon, "what did he do?"**

**"Tell us, darling," whispered Aunt Petunia. **

**"Pointed his wand at me," Dudley mumbled.**

**"Yeah, I did, but I didn't use -" Harry began angrily, but –**

**"SHUT UP!" roared Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia in unison.**

**"Go on, son," repeated Uncle Vernon, moustache blowing about furiously.**

**"All went dark," Dudley said hoarsely, shuddering. "Everything dark. And then I h-heard… things. Inside m-my head." Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia exchanged looks of utter horror. If their least favorite thing in the world was magic - closely followed by neighbors who cheated more than they did on the hosepipe ban - people who heard voices were definitely in the bottom ten. They obviously thought Dudley was losing his mind.**

**"What sort of things did you hear, Popkin?" breathed Aunt Petunia, very white-faced and with tears in her eyes. But Dudley seemed incapable of saying. He shuddered again and shook his large blond head, and despite the sense of numb dread that had settled on Harry, he felt a certain curiosity. Dementors caused a person to relive the worst moments of their life. What would spoiled, pampered, bullying Dudley have been forced to hear? **

**"How come you fell over, son?" said Uncle Vernon, in an unnaturally quiet voice, the kind of voice he might adopt at the bedside of a very ill person. **

**"T-tripped," said Dudley shakily. "And then –" He gestured at his massive chest. Harry understood. Dudley was remembering the clammy cold that filled the lungs as hope and happiness were sucked out of you. "Horrible," croaked Dudley. "Cold. Really cold." **

**"Okay," said Uncle Vernon, in a voice of forced calm, while Aunt Petunia laid an anxious hand on Dudley's forehead to feel his temperature. "What happened then, Dudders?"**

**"Felt… felt… felt… as if… as if…" **

**"As if you'd never be happy again," Harry supplied dully. **

**"Yes," Dudley whispered, still trembling. **

**"So!" said Uncle Vernon, voice restored to full and considerable volume as he straightened up. "You put some crackpot spell on my son so he'd hear voices and believe he was - was doomed to misery, or something, did you?" **

**"How many times do I have to tell you?" said Harry, temper and voice both rising. "It wasn't me! It was **about a dozen** Dementors!" **

**"A **dozen **- what's this codswallop?" **

**"De - men - tors," said Harry slowly and clearly. "**At least a dozen **of them." **

**"And what the ruddy hell are Dementors?" **

**"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban," said Aunt Petunia. **

**Two seconds of ringing silence followed these words before Aunt Petunia clapped her hand over her mouth as though she had let slip a disgusting swear word. Uncle Vernon was goggling at her. **

**Harry's brain reeled. **

**"How d'you know that?" he asked her, astonished. **

**Aunt Petunia looked quite appalled with herself. She glanced at Uncle Vernon in fearful apology, then lowered her hand slightly to reveal her horsy teeth. "I heard - that awful boy – telling her about them - years ago," she said jerkily. **

**"If you mean my mum and dad, why don't you use their names?" said Harry loudly, but Aunt Petunia ignored him. She seemed horribly flustered. Harry was stunned. Except for one outburst years ago, in the course of which Aunt Petunia had screamed that Harry's mother had been a freak, he had never heard her mention her sister. He was astounded that she had remembered this scrap of information about the magical world for so long, when she usually put all her energies into pretending it didn't exist. **

**Uncle Vernon opened his mouth, closed it again, opened it once more, shut it, then, apparently struggling to remember how to talk, opened it for a third time and croaked, "So - so - they - er - they - er - they actually exist, do they - er - Dementy-whatsits?"**

**Aunt Petunia nodded.**

**Uncle Vernon looked from Aunt Petunia to Dudley to Harry as if hoping somebody was going to shout 'April Fool!' When nobody did, he opened his mouth yet again, "I want to know exactly what happened to my son!" **

** "Dudley and I were in the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk," said Harry, speaking fast, fighting to control his temper. "Dudley thought he'd be smart with me, I pulled out my wand but didn't use it. Then **the** Dementors turned up —" **

**"But what ARE Dementoids?" asked Uncle Vernon furiously. "What do they DO?" **

**"I told you - they suck all the happiness out of you," said Harry, "and if they get the chance, they kiss you - **

**"Kiss you?" said Uncle Vernon, his eyes popping slightly. "Kiss you?" **

**"It's what they call it when they suck the soul out of your mouth." **

**Aunt Petunia uttered a soft scream. **

**"His soul? They didn't take - he's still got his -" **

**She seized Dudley by the shoulders and shook him, as though testing to see whether she could hear his soul rattling around inside him. "Of course they didn't get his soul, you'd know if they had," said Harry, exasperated. **

**"Fought 'em off, did you, son?" said Uncle Vernon loudly, with the appearance of a man struggling to bring the conversation back on to a plane he understood. "Gave 'em the old one-two, did you?" **

**"You can't give a Dementor the old one-two," said Harry through clenched teeth. **

**"Why's he all right, then?" blustered Uncle Vernon. "Why isn't he all empty, then?" **

**"Because I used the **sword** -" **

** "But what were Dementoids doing in Little Whinging?" said Uncle Vernon in an outraged tone.**

**"Couldn't tell you," said Harry wearily. "No idea." **

**His head was pounding in the glare of the strip-lighting now. His anger was ebbing away. He felt drained, exhausted. The Dursleys were all staring at him. **

**"It's you," said Uncle Vernon forcefully. "It's got something to do with you, boy, I know it. Why else would they turn up here? Why else would they be down that alleyway? You've got to be the only - the only -" Evidently, he couldn't bring himself to say the word 'wizard' "the only you know-what for miles." **

**"I don't know why they were here." **

**But at Uncle Vernon's words, Harry's exhausted brain had ground back into action. Why had the Dementors come to Little Whinging? How could it be coincidence that they had arrived in the alleyway where Harry was? Had they been sent? Had the Ministry of Magic lost control of the Dementors? Had they deserted Azkaban and joined Voldemort, as Dumbledore had predicted they would? **

**"These Demembers guard some weirdo's prison?" asked Uncle Vernon, lumbering along in the wake of Harry's train of thought. **

**"Yes," said Harry. **

**If only his head would stop hurting, if only he could just leave the kitchen and get to his dark bedroom and think… "Oho! They were coming to arrest you!" said Uncle Vernon, with the triumphant air of a man reaching an unassailable conclusion. "That's it, isn't it, boy? You're on the run from the law!" **

**"Of course I'm not," said Harry, shaking his head as though to scare off a fly, his mind racing now. **

**"Then why -?" **

**"He must have sent them," said Harry quietly, more to himself than to Uncle Vernon. **

**"What's that? Who must have sent them?" **

**"Lord Voldemort," said Harry. He registered dimly how strange it was that the Dursleys, who flinched, winced and squawked if they heard words like 'wizard', 'magic' or 'wand', could hear the name of the most evil wizard of all time without the slightest tremor. **

**"Lord - hang on," said Uncle Vernon, his face screwed up, a look of dawning comprehension coming into his piggy eyes. "I've heard that name… that was the one who —" **

**"Murdered my parents, yes," Harry said dully. **

**"But he's gone," said Uncle Vernon impatiently, without the slightest sign that the murder of**

**Harry's parents might be a painful topic. "That giant bloke said so. He's gone." **

**"He's back," said Harry heavily. **

**It felt very strange to be standing here in Aunt Petunia's surgically clean kitchen, beside the top of-the-range fridge and the wide-screen television, talking calmly of Lord Voldemort to Uncle Vernon**with an intensely powerful magical artifact resting calmly on the counter beside him.** The arrival of the Dementors in Little Whinging seemed to have breached the great, invisible wall that divided the relentlessly non-magical world of Privet Drive and the world beyond, Harry's two lives had somehow become fused and everything had been turned upside-down. Harry's head throbbed more painfully. **

**"Back?" whispered Aunt Petunia. **

**She was looking at Harry as she had never looked at him before. And all of a sudden, for the very first time in his life, Harry fully appreciated that Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister. He could not have said why this hit him so very powerfully at this moment. All he knew was that he was not the only person in the room who had an inkling of what Lord Voldemort being back might mean. Aunt Petunia had never in her life looked at him like that before. Her large, pale eyes (so unlike her sister's) were not narrowed in dislike or anger, they were wide and fearful. The furious pretence that Aunt Petunia had maintained all Harry's life - that there was no magic and no world other than the world she inhabited with Uncle Vernon - seemed to have fallen away.**

**"Yes," Harry said, talking directly to Aunt Petunia now. "He came back a month **and a half** ago. saw him." **

**Her hands found Dudley's massive leather-clad shoulders and clutched them. **

**"Hang on," said Uncle Vernon, looking from his wife to Harry and back again, apparently dazed and confused by the unprecedented understanding that seemed to have sprung up between them. **

**"Hang on. This Lord Voldything's back, you say."**

**"Yes."**

**"The one who murdered your parents."**

**"Yes." **

**"And now he's sending Dismembers after you?"**

**"Looks like it," said Harry.**

**"I see," said Uncle Vernon, looking from his white - faced wife to Harry and hitching up his trousers. He seemed to be swelling, his great purple face stretching before Harry's eyes. "Well, that settles it," he said, his shirt front straining as he inflated himself, "you can get out of this house, boy!" **

**"What?" said Harry. **

**"You heard me - OUT!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, and even Aunt Petunia and Dudley jumped. "OUT! OUT! I should've done this years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home, puddings exploding, half the lounge destroyed, Dudley's tail, Marge bobbing around on the ceiling and that flying Ford Anglia - OUT! OUT! You've had it! You're history! You're not staying here if some loony's after you, you're not endangering my wife and son, you're not bringing trouble down on us. If you're going the same way as your useless parents, I've had it! OUT!" **

**Harry stood rooted to the spot. "**MOVE**" said Uncle Vernon, bending forward now, his massive purple face coming so close to Harry's, he actually felt flecks of spit hit his face. "Get going! Get out and never darken our doorstep again! Why we ever kept you in the first place, I don't know, Marge was right; it should have been the orphanage. We were too damn soft for our own good, thought we could squash it out of you, thought we could turn you normal, but you've been rotten from the beginning and I've had enough! **I want you, and every freaky thing in this house gone within the hour!**"**

Harry's exhaustion and his barely suppressed temper caught up to him at once. "FINE! I'm gone, should've never come back here anyway!" He grabbed the sword and stormed up the stairs. His temper caused his magic to swirl around him and almost crackle in the air. His bedroom door burst open so fast it nearly ripped off the hinges. He set the sword on his desk and grabbed an old letter from Hermione and quickly scribbled a note on the back of it:

_Hermione,_

_ Dursley's have finally thrown me out. Not sure where I'm going yet, but please hang on to Hedwig, she will sense when I need her. I'll contact you in a few days. Please don't tell anyone else about this, they'd only make me come back, and the way things are between Vernon and I, well let's just say it's better this way._

_ -Harry_

Harry tied the message to Hedwig's leg, instructed her to stay with Hermione for a few days and, mindful of recent events, ordered her to stay unseen as best she could, then he let her out the window. He opened his trunk and began stuffing everything he could into it. He left nothing that could tie this place to the magical world behind. His old school books, bits of magical paraphernalia that had built up over the years, even his old school robes. Anything that suggested this was more than just a normal household was crammed into his trunk. In his hurry he even shoved all of Dudley's unread encyclopedias and novels inside his trunk. He was sure he was stressing the limits of the spatial expansion charms when Godric's voice sounded in his mind once again. "If I might hazard a suggestion, I believe you should consider the family manor if this current residence has become hostile."

"Hostile doesn't even begin to describe it. But I didn't have any idea there was an ancestral manor, much less how to find it."

"Well, you will first need the family signet. Once you have that, it acts as a portkey to the manor. If you don't have the ring, it must be in the family vault."

Harry had finished his packing, removing the cloak and other personal items from the hidden floorboard and closing the straining trunk. "That'll mean Gringott's. I may not know much, but I can guarantee that the bank is closed by this time. It's nearly eleven. I guess I'll stay at the Leaky tonight and head to the bank in the morning. What about you though? I don't think it'd be wise to walk around the knight bus or the Cauldron with a sword in my hand.

"I believe I can help with that." Without warning the sword began to shrink and alter shape until the only thing left was a small knife in a belt sheath.

"That…works." Harry grabbed the knife and attached it to his belt before grabbing his trunk and, thanking whoever thought of permanent featherlight charms, left his room and Privet Drive for the last time, saying nothing to his relatives other than a cold stare as he exited the house forever. Within another half hour he was safely behind the doors of a suite at the Leaky Cauldron and five minutes after that he was out for the night, the day's events having long since worn him out.


	2. To Come into His Own

AN: I'd like to thank all of you for your reviews, favs, and follows. I've read in many ANs over the past few years how much the reviews motivate authors, but I never quite understood that until seeing it from the other side of the fence. Thank you all. I'd also like to thank god of all, for writing my first review ever.

From a reader's standpoint, I can hardly wait for the next update for the stories I enjoy. So I'll let you guys know that I'm two chapters ahead with this story, however I don't post them until after I've reread them several times and written a chapter or so ahead. This is both to proofread and allow me to ensure plot continuity and a little wiggle room for adjusting details. I will do my best to post at least once a month. That being said, this is my hobby, and I do work full time and have to deal with real life. So please bear with me. Also, I have several other stories I occasionally nurse along. Some of them will hopefully find their way online.

As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy. This all belongs to JKR, I'm just adding my twists.

- Godric

~~~~GB~~~~

Early the next morning, Elphias Dodge apparated to the edge of Privet Drive under the cover of an invisibility cloak. As he walked closer to the established meeting point at the edge of the hedges of Number Four, he noticed that he could no longer feel the tingle of the blood wards identifying him as having neither ill intent nor dark magic in or on his person. That was red flag number one. Red flag number two was the obvious disappearance of Mundungus Fletcher. Red flag number three was that the kitchen window, through which one could normally see young Harry making breakfast, was dark. The true shock came when Elphias scanned the house with a magic pulse, and only found three non magical human auras, and not a bit of magic anywhere on the property. Elphias may have been getting on in years, but he made it to Hogwarts' Headmaster's office in record time that morning.

~~~~GB~~~~

Elsewhere in the country, a large cracking sound followed by a flash of light and a crash woke Harry with a start. Jumping up and taking a clumsy dueling stance on his bed, wand in hand, he scanned the room, only to see that the enlargement charms on his trusty school trunk had finally reached their limits, as evidenced by the large pile of his possessions on top of the busted remains of his trunk. He quickly dropped down and took a seat on the edge of his bed, breathing heavily as the adrenaline worked its way through his body. _Guess that means it's time to get a new trunk; another stop in the alley for the day._ He sighed and gathered some clothes off the heap in front of him and made his way to the bathroom.

~~~~GB~~~~

In the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, Albus had just sat down in his favorite chair after breakfast, with a stack of paperwork on the table next to him when his old friend Elphias had burst through his office door. "Albus! Albus! Hurry, come quick…there's something wrong, it's gone horribly, terribly wrong!"

"Come now Elphias, take a seat, catch your breath and explain what's happened." After more than a century's worth of experience in politics and childcare, Albus knew how to work through a panic attack. He summoned a glass of water from the sideboard and with a snap of the fingers in midflight it was blanketed in a cooling charm and directed right into Elphias' trembling hand.

A few brief moments later and Dodge had calmed enough to speak clearly, although his voice still contained the urgency of the situation. "It's Privet Drive Albus, I was on rotation this morning, but the wards are gone! Mundungus is nowhere to be found, and there's not a trace of magic on that property! Harry's gone, along with all of his possessions."

This momentarily rendered Albus speechless as he took stock of the situation; he glanced at the row of devices on the shelf that maintained the ward status of Privet Drive. Indeed all of them were motionless; indicating that the wards had truly vanished, and judging from the signs displayed Harry had at least a seven hour lead on them. His strategist mind quickly examining the possibilities and moves open to him. "Well, that is a very serious issue. Elphias, I need you to go down to the Great Hall and try to catch the order members among the staff before they leave breakfast, I'll have Fawkes send out the signal to the other members who are available, and I'll begin making floo calls to see if I can track Harry down. There are only a few places he'd have gone."

Albus quickly went through the list of people Harry might seek for refuge. His floo calls to the Burrow and Longbottom Manor turned up negative responses, and he contacted the guard at Ms. Granger's house, which was also a bust. Apparently Harry had not been in contact with Ms. Granger at all this summer, his snowy owl easy to spot among the typical barn owls that delivered the prophet and the Weasley boy's tiny energetic feather ball. He briefly considered the boy's godfather, but he knew Harry had not contacted Sirius, and he had no way of knowing where the Azkaban escapee was currently residing.

That left only the Leaky Cauldron, which was where Harry had run to after fleeing his relatives two years ago. The problem with that was that it was a very public place and Albus couldn't risk the wrong person overhearing that Harry Potter was missing. Albus would have to see to this personally, and carefully. He quickly disillusioned himself, flooed to the upper room of his brother's inn, then apparated to just inside the door to the Leaky Cauldron. It was still rather early, and no doubt a teenager who'd been kept on a very strict schedule would take advantage of his first day of freedom to get a bit of a lie in. Albus quietly sent out a magical scan of the building, finding more than fifty magical signals, not counting those of the myriad familiars. Unfortunately none of them corresponded to Mr. Potter or his owl. Defeated, Albus returned to his office, hoping that perhaps one of the order members who'd been on guard duty could suggest another place Harry may have run to. Of course Albus had no idea that Harry had been awoken a little earlier than he'd have liked, and had already been halfway to Gringott's before Albus entered the Cauldron.

~~~~GB~~~~

At about the same time that Albus was breaking the news to the assembled members of the Order, the boy himself was passing through the doors of Gringott's. Having only been open for less than half an hour, there were not many patrons present, thus Harry had no problem walking right up to the teller's desk.

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry cautiously asked the goblin behind the desk. He was careful to be exceptionally polite and be sure he did not show teeth when he smiled, such a thing was offensive in goblin culture according to Godric.

"Yes, how may Gringott's be of service to you today?" The goblin appeared to be rather young and still tired at this early hour. It was clear that he was merely following protocol and put little emotion behind his greeting.

"I need to speak with someone about claiming my family vaults. I'm sorry, but I don't know who the account manager in charge of my family is though. I've been raised away from the magical community, and have little knowledge of my heritage." Honesty: another key point in goblin culture.

Apparently his passing attempts at goblin manners had caught the attention of the teller, for he gave what passed for a goblin smile before asking in a little more polite voice. "Your family name, sir?"

"Potter." The goblin merely arched his extremely bushy eyebrow and gave an ever so brief glance at his scar before tapping a scroll of parchment in front of him and mumbling in Gobbledegook. The scroll appeared to be a list of client names and account managers for it shifted through several alphabetized accounts before stopping and highlighting the row that began with '_Potter'_. The goblin then checked a different list, this one appearing to contain a schedule of some sort.

"Your account manager is Grimfist. I believe he has just arrived, and his schedule for the morning is clear. You will find his office just down that corridor, in room 112." Harry thanked the teller, again being as polite as possible before following his directions to a closed office door with the numbers 1-1-2 etched in gold on the mahogany surface. A series of symbols in gobbledegook were under the number, and below that was the name _Grimfist, Account Services Manager _also in gold. Again, relying on the advice from the telepathic blade at his hip, Harry knocked clearly and loudly three times in quick succession and waited for the gruff voice to grant him permission before he entered.

The opening door revealed a moderately sized office. Other than the obvious magical differences it appeared almost as if it could belong to any banker or lawyer's office in the muggle world. There were large file cabinets, bookshelves containing many impressively large books, a sideboard stocked with expensive looking bottles of what was surely the best liquor available, several framed certificates and awards, although Harry could not understand a word written on them, and the overly large wooden desk, all done in solid dark wood accented in brass and leather, or perhaps dragonhide, sitting on a thick plush rug. There was even a large mug of what might be coffee on the desk. The key difference; however, was the individual behind the desk.

Standing at just less than five foot even, the goblin behind the desk had a rough, grayish, scaly complexion and wisps of dark hair. His ears and nose were both long and rather pointed, as was his chin. He was clothed in an elaborate robe and armor combination that gave the impression of middle grade power, yet casual wealth. The fact that the overcoat was draped across the back of his large chair gave the office an almost contradictory relaxed feel.

"Yes?" the goblin asked as he bid Harry forward to take a seat in front of the desk.

"Hello sir, I'm Harry Potter, I'm here to claim my family vaults so that I can take up residence in my ancestral home. I know that I'm not of age yet, but I've been told that as the last remaining member of my family, I'm allowed to claim the headship and the responsibilities of my house." Godric had carefully explained what Harry had to say as they were walking to the bank.

"Potter you say?" Grimfist moved over to a row of filing cabinets, searching for the correct one. Hmmm…Potter, Potter…Here we go." He brought a rather large file back to the desk before glancing through a few pages. "Your information is correct; first however you must provide proof of identification. Normally a family ring could work, or a magical signature test, but it appears that you have never registered a signature to test against, and with the Potter family being in hibernation, a ring is out as well. We'll need to do a blood test." Harry nodded, half expecting this from the information he'd received from Godric. "I'm not a healer, but I do have a good amount of experience in these things, having worked in the heritage department for nearly one hundred and forty years before being promoted to account manager by your grandfather at my predecessor's retirement thirty-five years ago." Harry was rather surprised by the implied age of his account manager before Godric informed him that the average goblin could expect to live seven to eight hundred years with healthy living.

Grimfist pulled a small golden pin out of a black case in a drawer and then cast a few charms on a blank sheet of parchment. He then instructed Harry to prick his finger and touch the blood to the parchment. Within a few moments the blood had passed the test and a few short lines appeared on the paper confirming that he was indeed who he said he was. As Harry watched the lines fill in he learned a few things. First, his actual first name was Harrison. He supposed that his aunt having never seen his birth certificate did not know this, and that was how he'd been known as simply Harry. He also found out what his parents middle names were, Charles and Marie, and their birthdays. This information was followed by a few lines in Gobbledegook that Harry could not make out.

"Well, you are indeed Harry Potter; however, it appears that there are a few irregularities here. This test is showing that there are unknown substances in your blood. May I cast charms upon it to attempt to identify these substances?" Though the substances' presence was a bit surprising, Harry had a good idea what they might be, and he knew that blood was such a personal thing in magic, due to the powers it held, so he was also unsurprised by Grimfist seeking permission. With Harry's acceptance, Grimfist cast a few more charms over the paper, and prompted by the results he received opened a drawer and removed a small potion vial. Using a dropper he added one drop of this potion to the blood sample on the parchment. It appeared that he was rather shocked by the results. "Well, I have identified the substances. They appear to be basilisk venom and phoenix tears." The boy wizard nodded, the substances were as he assumed. "You've been bitten by a basilisk?"

"Yes sir, during my second year at Hogwarts there was an incident involving the Chamber of Secrets. The beast inside was a basilisk, and being a Parselmouth, I was uh… uniquely suited, I guess, to the task. During the fight I acquired the Sword of Gryffindor and as the snake was about to bite me, I managed to stab through the roof of its mouth, killing it. However, one of the fangs pierced my arm just below the elbow, here" Harry lifted his sleeve to show the somewhat jagged but faint scar where the fang had torn through his skin. "The headmaster's phoenix cried into the wound, sir. That is also why the tears are in my system."

Grimfist seemed slightly awed by this narration, and took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying. "Well, young Mister Potter, it appears your survival as a child was not the only feat you are capable of. That beast must have been near a millennia old. At that age it should have been damn close to twenty meters in length. It would be a challenge for any adult to defeat such a being. That you survived is a testament not only to your strength but also indicates that you must have some of the best luck I have ever heard of." Both occupants of the office shared a laugh at that.

"Yes sir, thank you sir." The dark haired wizard commented trying to hide his slight blush.

"I believe you should look into acquiring the carcass of that beast, should it still be available. Basilisk provide several valuable potions ingredients, and you could make a fair amount from the sale of such a thing. It is yours by right of conquest after all." The goblin shook his head for a moment before moving on. "Now then, you and I have quite a bit of business to attend to."

~~~~GB~~~~

Around the time that Harry was eyeing the large pile of paperwork his account manager had pulled out of a folio with trepidation, Albus was feeling a not unrelated sense of nervousness as he began to come to terms with the possibility that the Order may have in fact _lost_ Harry Potter. He contemplated the possibilities as he sat at the head of the table in a conference room that was part of the Headmaster's Suite. The Order had just concluded its meeting, and no one had any idea where Harry may have gone beyond the locations already checked. One possibility was that he may have sought refuge in the muggle world, but no one knew of any place there that would hold prominence for Harry. All they could do was break off in pairs and groups and hope they found a lead. As the last of the floo flames flickered out, Albus sighed and wondered how his careful plans would be affected by this unexpected occurrence.

~~~~GB~~~~

Senior Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was happy to volunteer his morning off to help further the cause of the Order of the Phoenix. He had never met Harry, or any of his friends, but he knew that the Dark Lord was gathering strength, and with the Boy-Who-Lived at the top of his hit list, it was possible the evil wizard would strike at one of the most vulnerable of Mr. Potter's friends. So it was that he was not to put out by his assigned task of guarding the Granger residence. Of course, between the line of people flooing out of the headmaster's office, and the time it took to apparate from Scotland down to the London suburbs, he arrived back at his post just in time to miss the fluttering of a snow white owl as it was admitted to an upstairs bedroom whose curtains were quickly drawn.

~~~~GB~~~~

Lunchtime was fast approaching as Harry finally signed the last of a rather impressive stack of documents in the Potter portfolio. It was at this time that he entertained the thought that goblins had not given up their warlike ways, but that they had just exchanged their axes and catapults for contracts and waivers. Honestly, he had never seen quite so many forms in one place, most of them in triplicate. There were so many authorization signatures and initialings that he felt his arm was near ready to just drop off from over work.

In the past few hours he had not only assumed his Head of House Potter duties, but he had also folded his trust fund back into the newly unfrozen family vault and reaccepted the management contracts and autonomy agreements of the various gem and mineral mines and refineries that his family owned throughout the world.

He had been intrigued to learn that the mining business had been his family's main income for over a millennia. Ever since a distant ancestor had discovered gems and precious metals in his clay mine. It seems that at one time the Potter's were... potters. It had grown from a small merchant business into a quite lucrative company with mining properties all over the world. Harry had also given his approval for various retainer positions such as financial and legal counsel, and reviewed the progress of the family's rather impressive fortune in the investment world.

Harry had tried his best to make sense of the various investments and stocks and business dealings as best he could, and for the record he felt that Grimfist was extraordinarily patient as he repeatedly explained things that Harry was sure were basic concepts in the financial world. Indeed, much of the decisions were made entirely by the goblin, with Harry merely approving his choices. If the profits over the past decade were anything to go by, he reasoned, his account manager obviously knew what he was doing. Combine that with the oath of honesty that Grimfist gave Harry as the new account holder, and the young wizard felt very comfortable with his non-human advisor. The guiding presence of Godric on his hip was also a lifeline among the morass of paperwork and decision making.

By the time the last of the contracts had been cleared away, the green eyed wizard had realized quite a lot about his financial situation. He had discovered that the Potter's were quite wealthy. Though the mines and refineries were essentially self sufficient and run by their own managers and co-ops of well paid employees, they contributed a healthy annual sum, as well as a certain share of raw materials to the family accounts. His investment portfolio had also been doing pretty well under Grimfist's management, and though there were the ever present losses, they were far outnumbered by the gains.

The amount of money he now possessed both shocked Harry and made him more than a little uncomfortable. For as long as he could remember, Harry had only desired to be normal. Growing up as the extra in the Dursley household he had always hoped he could somehow become a true part of the family, this desire continued once he learned of his past and fame. He always wanted to just be Harry, a normal teenage boy. And now he learned that he had more money than he could ever hope to spend, along with titles and responsibilities and it just served to make him even more abnormal, he would be mortified if any of his friends were ever to learn the truth

When Harry had expressed his surprise at such a large fortune Grimfist had explained that it not only included over a decade of interest with little spending, and the Potter's substantial personal fortune, but also several other accounts that had been merged into the Potter's in the past century due families dying out in Grindelwald and Voldemort uprisings, two muggle world wars, and a rather vicious outbreak of Wizard's Plague in the fifties.

"This is one of the unforeseen side effects of the older families having so many inter marriages," the banker had said. "There were well over a hundred families completely wiped out. Over a dozen were either cadet lines or families who had married into the Potter's. Their accounts reverted to your family, and now you as the only living heir. Combine that with the people's unwillingness to bear children in the difficult climate and the attacks on muggleborns forcing them to flee the country, and you have the explanation for magical Britain's shrinking population." Harry had learned that in situations in which an entire family was killed, once other disbursements were made from the will, if any, all property assets were liquidated, and the cash and heirlooms of the family were added into the account of the nearest relative. Apparently it was a law that had been passed centuries ago to prevent the ministry from claiming a deceased family's power. Of course the Wizengamot, a mostly hereditary body made up primarily of the Lords of these old houses, would never allow the ministry to threaten their authority.

Sadly, when he had asked, Grimfist told him that the last of the Potter cadet lines were completely wiped out by the Death Eaters and Voldemort during the seventies. It seemed the Dark Lord made it a priority to eliminate those he knew would be his biggest adversaries. This was why Harry's parents had been such high profile targets to Voldemort, and it was one of these attacks that successfully led to the murder of James' parents in 1979. This truly made Harry the last of the Potter line, with his only direct relatives being the Dursley's; although he was rather distantly related to a good number of the pureblood families through marriage including both the Blacks and the Longbottoms among others.

Grimfist informed Harry that aside from their success in business and their propensity in being on the frontlines of many wars, the Potter's were one of the oldest families known. They had ties to several prominent members of magical history and were rumored to be able to trace their family line back through the Roman Empire and beyond; although Harry would need to consult the official family records kept safely in the family estate in order to know for sure.

Godric took that chance to inform him that while the Hogwarts castle had long since been a governmental dependant and no longer private property of the Gryffindor family, as an heir of a founder, indeed _the _heir, Harry would have a few unique abilities once he returned to school such as affinity to the inherent castle magic and a small amount of control over the aspects of the castle, such as portraits and moving structures. Harry speculated that it was probably these abilities that aided his father in the making of The Marauder's Map.

There was also the matter of a vault created by Gringott's to contain donations to the "Boy-Who-Lived" from the grateful public over the past fourteen years. Upon learning that the account contained not only a good sized sum of gold, but also children's toys and clothes, Harry set up a system so that all of the donations and any further ones would be shared between magical orphanages and the St. Mungo's Children's ward. He reasoned that he was already far wealthier than he would ever have need for, and that the children in those facilities would use the gifts far more than he would.

When the last document had been notarized and filed, Grimfist pulled out a few more stacks of parchment and some small boxes. "Before you can complete your ascension, you will need the Potter signet to accept you, thereby finalizing everything we've worked on this morning." He then grabbed the first of the boxes. While still shocked by his heritage, what Harry saw once the goblin had cracked the lid momentarily stunned him, both for its significance as well as its beauty.

It was the Potter Family Signet.

A wide band of gold with the family seal on the front, flanked by flawless and beautiful trapezoidal red stones, which Harry later learned were garnets. The Seal itself was the inverted Potter crest, which consisted of a central shield bearing a crossed pickaxe and wand surmounted by a cluster of feathers on an old roman style helm and supported by an eagle and a lion. At a subtle mental nudge from Godric Harry gently removed the ring from the box and placed it onto his right ring finger, where it resized itself with a wiggle, a twist, and a flash of light. Harry became vaguely aware that the ring had its own magical sensation, almost an electrical pulse that tingled up his arm.

For his part, Grimfist was silent for a moment, allowing the young orphan to process the reception of such an heirloom. He then spoke softly; "The ring has accepted you. You will no doubt feel its magic, true family signets of the oldest Houses tie the lord with their family's magic. The specifics are kept most secret, but the most common traits are that you probably now have an instinctual knowledge of the Potter Estate, a host of protective enchantments, and most are also portkeys to your various properties" While the goblin spoke, Godric was telepathically informing Harry of the specific enchantments the Potter ring possessed. Harry was amused that his account manager had no way of knowing most of what he had mentioned was true. "As a signet, that ring will also serve as both your vault key, and a way of authorizing payment of larger sums without the need for physical gold. Simply affix your seal to the receipt and the bank will transfer the funds. Magic will create the wax as needed, you simply need to press the ring down and _want_ to form the seal. It is a fairly common form of magical payment."

"Yes Sir." Harry was still a bit taken aback, but he looked up as Grimfist reached for the next box, which he opened to reveal a smaller narrow banded ring in silvery metal. Harry was not sure if it was white gold, silver, or potentially even platinum. It held a square cut smooth domed onyx stone flanked on one side by a crest featuring a chevroned shield containing a sword and two stars supported by what appeared to be two dogs. The other held a symbol that Harry vaguely recalled was the cadency symbol of the primary male heir of a title, a three paneled banner, which they had once studied in his muggle school. Here as well the craftsmanship was beyond superb. Harry shot Grimfist a confused and questioning look.

The banker elaborated "As Sirius Black was never convicted, his accounts remain untouched despite his fugitive status. While he is the Lord-in-Absentia of the Black family until he can claim the title, his will stands. As your godfather has you listed as his heir presumptive you are entitled to the Heir's Ring."

Harry picked up the ring, and with only a moment of hesitation slid it onto his right pinkie, as per Godrics instruction. This was the formal place for a secondary ring. Again, a wiggle, twist, and flash and the ring was properly sized.

Grimfist explained; "We have a rather rare situation in that as the current de jure lord is absent, but still alive and with a rightful claim, as his heir you are the de facto head of the Black family. You do not have the titles, and are under limited access, but you can control some of the running of the family estate." At this he pulled out another moderately large folder. Fortunately the Black family was not in hibernation, so the stack was significantly smaller, but Harry still had to review several investments and appoint new counsel. Harry picked all the same counsel as the Potter Estate with the proviso that they were temporary until the Lord of the family could be contacted. He again allowed Grimfist to take the lead with the investments. He figured he would have to speak to Sirius as soon as possible to determine what major actions should be taken.

Shortly thereafter the Black documents had been concluded and filed away with the Potter portfolio. This left Harry more exhausted than he would think from only handling paperwork, but also highly curious about the last bit of parchment and the final two boxes on Grimfist's Desk.

Noting his curiosity, Grimfist spoke; "Ah, I see you have noticed the last item on the agenda. Now that you are considered of age, your maternal grandparents' will can be fully executed. A portion of it has been held in trust since your mother never came in to file it, and with her passing it falls to you. This paperwork was transferred to us from our muggle counterparts shortly before your parents were killed. To shorten it a bit, your mother was left half your grandmother's jewelry, approximately 11,000 pounds cash, and a large box of Evans family heirlooms. This amounts to half of your grandparents' estate. Your aunt claimed her half fifteen years ago, just after your grandparents died in the house fire. All you have to do is sign here and here."

As he yet again signed his name, Harry considered the amount of information about his family that he had never known. He was aware that the Evans' were dead, as Petunia made annual trips to their gravesite, but he was not aware of the circumstances, or that they had left his mother, and by extension him, anything. Everything that he had discovered in the office over the past few hours caught up to him and he was left in a semi-trancelike state; simply staring at the rings on his hand.

Grimfist remained silent, but Godric was mindful of what still needed to be done. _Harry. Harry, I know you are overwhelmed, to say the least, but we do have things we must be attending to._ The mental prodding seemed to pull the boy wizard out of his thoughts as he jumped slightly and made his apologies for his distraction. With their business concluded, Harry made his farewells to the goblin and asked if it would be possible for him to visit his vault and look around. Having never had much that connected him to his family, he was extremely curious as to what may be there.

~~~~GB~~~~

As Harry was riding a cart into the depths of Gringott's, Sirius Black was pacing the private study of a rundown manor a few miles to the south. He was trying to vent his frustration at his seeming powerlessness. His godson was missing, something the Headmaster had waited several hours to deign informing him of, and he was once again prevented from helping him. It was Sirius' greatest regret that he had let his rage blind him and allowed Hagrid to take the infant Harry while he, the one who was supposed to care for the child of his best friend, left to hunt down the rat. Now, he was again prevented from doing his godfatherly duty. The professor had essentially locked him in his own house. Deep down, the marauder knew it was probably for the best. He was still a wanted criminal, and with Pettigrew back with the Dark Lord, every Death Eater this side of the cliffs of Dover probably knew what Padfoot looked like. All the same he was still gripped with fear and anxiety over where Harry was, and why no one had heard from him.

It was on what could have been his hundredth lap around the old desk that he felt a nagging sensation in the back of his mind. As he was pulled from his worries the tingle kept getting stronger. Sirius took a breath and tried to focus on where it was coming from. He eventually realized that it was his magical connection to his Head of House ring. Sirius had found the heavy ring in the desk drawer the day he arrived.

He was surprised when the ring accepted him, he was certain his mother had disinherited him years ago, but there was no mistaking the feeling as the enchantments bonded to him... the enchantments... The enchantments that connected the Head of House to the other members of the family. Members of the family who would be wearing rings, such as the Heir's Ring, which would mean it had to be Harry! Harry was the only other person who could currently claim a Black family ring! Andromeda had yet to be reinstated, and Narcissa and Bellatrix had forfeited their claims to the House of Black in their wedding vows, as was the pureblood custom to prevent line feuds. But Harry, Harry was listed as his heir, and Gringott's didn't give a flying fig about what the ministry says, so they would honor it!

Sirius did a happy little dance now that he knew Harry was okay. That tingle was the family magic letting him know everything would be fine... now if he could remember how to activate the telepathic connection... it had been decades since his lessons with his father. But there was a journal somewhere. He was sure of it. He began to scour the study, wondering where his father had left it.

~~~~GB~~~~

Until next time,

-G


	3. The Dark Side of the Moon

AN: As before, I own only the storyline, not the characters or settings.

I apologize for the slightly later chapter here. The past month has been quite hectic. I was involved in a car wreck, and while I walked away, my truck was totaled. I also learned a very important lesson. Always _Always_ have full coverage. I had liability, as it was cheaper, but the joke was on me, as I'm now out 5K for a new car, completely without assistance from any insurance company. I will never make that mistake again, that's for damn sure.

~~~~GB~~~~

While the rest of the Order was out searching the places thought most likely to attract young Harry, Headmaster Dumbledore was walking up the carefully maintained sidewalks of Privet Drive. As he passed each identical manicured lawn, his rather prodigious mind focused not only on his current problem, but his past mistakes. The wards on the Dursley home had completely collapsed, and rapidly decayed beyond the point that one would be hard pressed to find even the slightest evidence of their presence. The failure of the wards had rendered his efforts over the past fourteen years moot. And this realization saddened him greatly.

In addition to his more personal problems, the failure of the wards had another more practical result; he would have to find another location for the boy to stay. The obvious choice would be either Headquarters, with the drawback of exposing Harry to plenty of unsupervised visits with Sirius, or Hogwarts. However; while the castle's wards were top tier, it was neither secret, nor secure; as the Weasley twins proved by continually finding new ways to sneak away. Albus had originally placed baby Harry here both to remove him from the public eye, and to utilize the blood connection shared between Harry, his mother, and his aunt. This provided Harry with some of the best protection available; however it also led to one of the professor's greatest regrets.

Blood wards are an extremely powerful, yet extremely picky set of magics. The strict circumstances in which they could be cast are some of the reasons they remained so obscure. Even Dumbledore, with his decades of study and access to one of the best magical libraries in the world had only ever found a few mentions of them. This obscurity is one of the reasons he chose to take advantage of the sacrifice Lily had made to protect anyone sharing her blood against the one who killed her.

The wards were based on a series of complex spells which used an attack on a family, such as Voldemort killing Lily, to prevent anyone bearing that magical signature from being able to locate anyone who shared the victim's blood. In this way it functioned very much like a primitive Fidelius charm. This effect combined with the fact that every Death Eater was marked with the Dark Lord's own magical signature resulted in the inability of any part of Voldemort's forces ever finding the boy's home. Add to that Dumbledore's own wards preventing common types of dark magic from crossing the property line along with the standard magical travel and intent wards, and Mr. Potter was very well hidden from the magical community.

The biggest weakness however; was that the wards required a magical person sharing the blood of the victim residing within to anchor themselves to a property as opposed to the more common ward stone foundation of standard defenses. This is why the headmaster had had to ensure the boy's return every summer. So as to prevent a potentially dangerous strain on the magical individual, the wards drew their power not from the individual itself, but from the unique interaction between the auras, at least one of which had to be magical, of those sharing a familial link. This fact required that Harry and his aunt spend time in direct interaction.

However, to the Headmaster's shame, he was no fool, he knew the child was far from happy here, and he had seen the troubling signs that pointed to an unpleasant truth about the Dursley home. Despite this, he had had to make the tough call at the cost of the boy's happiness in favor the greater good of the wizarding world. Sadly, Albus' hands were tied in this matter. The headmaster had cast the necessary charms to ensure proper notification which would allow him to intervene should anything life threatening happen, but to maintain the protection of the blood wards; he had to allow the Dursley's their leeway with the boy. With his prophesized fate, the chance that he could be found by the followers of the Dark Lord was not a risk that could be taken.

Albus felt every bit of his one hundred and fifty three years as he approached the front door of Number Four. With Mr. Potter's disappearance, and his apparent dismissal from the Dursley home, the wards had completely disappeared, and with them the slight justification Albus had maintained for his ignorance of Harry's treatment. It was with both a full mind and a heavy heart that he knocked on the front door of the worst sort of muggles.

~~~~GB~~~~

Several hundred miles away, the being once known as Tom Riddle sat silently in its private study. The self styled Dark Lord was contemplating the results of his resurrection. The ritual had succeeded in returning him to a strong and powerful body of his own. He was no longer forced to rely on the possession of creatures and simple minded men; however his duel with the brat and the unexpected connection of their wands had drained him of what little magic his form had held. Looking back he realized he should not have allowed his anger to get the best of him. He knew it would take time after the ritual to return to his full strength, he should have just killed the boy and been done with it. It seemed that as soon as he was regenerated into this new form, the frustration and humiliation of the past decade had driven him to let slip the careful control he was once known for. Now he was reduced to scraping by with what magic he could spare while his new body replenished his stores. He was stronger with each passing day, but it would still be quite awhile before he returned to his prior strengths.

He was thankful that he had long ago prepared a sanctuary for himself. He supposed that it was as close to home as he had ever had. Voldemort took a moment to admire his surroundings. The exquisite home had seen many inhabitants over its long history, serving as both a nunnery and then a fortress prior to becoming a personal home. Something in its design called to him. He supposed there was a certain similarity in the structure to the grand halls of Hogwarts, the only other place he had truly felt at home. He had rechristened the property 'Serpent's Coil' and it was here that he found refuge when needed.

The stately manor also housed his collection of rare and ancient books and all the magical relics he had gathered while preparing for his rise to power. Few knew of its existence, and fewer still had actually been permitted to visit. A much younger Voldemort had spent the better part of a decade planning and setting the unique wards. They were a mix of the most powerful, obscure, and sinister spells. A range of Persian, Chinese, Hindi, Egyptian, Roman, and half a dozen other defenses. Each and every one interlocked and cast in parseltongue on full moons, solstices, or equinoxes with their anchors inscribed on marble tablets buried around the perimeter. The system as a whole was tied into a nearby ley line, thus drawing power from the magical fields of the earth itself. An intruder would either have to find each tablet in sequence and individually counter each ward with its specific counter spoken in parseltongue, or overpower them directly, something not even a dozen Dumbledores could do quickly.

He had bought the centuries old property at a muggle auction not long after dealing with his paternal ancestors. No one knew that he had imperiused the useless muggles into giving him everything of value they owned before their slow demise. They had begged for death's embrace for hours before he had erased all evidence of his presence and eliminated them with a few quick Killing Curses, laying the blame at his simpleminded uncle's feet. It had taken the bulk of his _inheritance_ from the muggle fools to purchase the estate. It had been a near thing, and the well appointed former abbey had almost gone to some idiotic landmark association. Yet another piece of evidence to show the muggle filth did not deserve splendor such as this. Imagine, such a masterpiece of architecture standing for over seven hundred years to then lie derelict as a dusty museum to some doddering old scientist. Imbeciles! They wouldn't know true brilliance if it poked them in the face.

The Dark Lord then had to take a moment to calm himself. His temper was spiking, and he could already feel the magic he had built up flaring around him. He had noticed that since his rebirth his temper had developed a hair-trigger. He was once a master of calm, even as he committed what some would call atrocities. He was renowned for his mastery of mind magics; but now he couldn't even look around the room without wanting to curse something. _ 'Just as well only my most trusted lieutenants know of this place' _he thought as he begin the long familiar occlumentic exercises '_it wouldn't do to gut my own men.'_

~~~~GB~~~~

In another study at the other side of the expansive mansion, Lucius Malfoy was hard at work on a plan to free his captive brethren from the dark shores of Azkaban. Even just out of Hogwarts, Lucius had been a trusted advisor to his Lord, something which helped him rapidly rise through the ranks to serve as his master's right hand. It had also thankfully separated him from the typical dregs of the Death Eaters. Lucius favored himself more of a white-collar criminal, and believed that he possessed more... _sophistication_ than some of his fellows. He excelled in the planning and political maneuvering as opposed to getting his hands dirty in a duel or the wanton destruction many of his compatriots favored.

Indeed, in the fourteen years of his lord's absence he had utilized every opportunity he could in order to establish a large source of funds for their movement, minus his fair share of course. He had also led the more intelligent of his Death Eater brothers into a strong political force, determined to return the traditional values to the wizarding world. Through a combination of slippery political maneuvering, bribery, blackmail, and charm they had succeeded in laying a groundwork of laws for the advancement of the cause, limiting the rights and privileges of the undesirable elements of society, and attaining strong positions of influence in both the government and the business sectors. With Fudge in office, and the right amount of gold they could achieve practically anything. Of course, Lucius had hoped that when the time came _he_ would be the one to take charge, but he would never let his lord discover that bit of information.

The elder Malfoy did not get to where he was in the world by being a fool. His family had a long history of slipping and sliding their way to the top, and knowing when to get away, preferably after squarely placing the blame somewhere else. It was one of the reasons the Malfoys had fled from France during the revolution. While they may have had a hand in triggering the uprisings, once the fear and panic had set in and heads, muggle and magic alike, began to roll they had fled promptly to the safety of England, along with everything of worth and value they could get their hands on. It was for this reason that Lucius' back-up plans had back-up plans. He had at least seven ways that he could escape, should his lord fail.

It was something he prided himself on, especially with the changes the Dark Lord had undergone in his absence. His lord had once been a persuasive force attracting many wealthy and powerful allies to his cause with an almost seductive grace; promising power, riches, or whatever else his target might desire. He was a magical and tactical powerhouse, leading a relatively small group of comrades on a campaign that had an entire country in fear so great they still whimpered at a whisper of his name. They had all but ruled this land for nearly a decade. His lord could lie, cheat, and outsmart the best of them, conducting a masterpiece of manipulation and promise that would have left even the most silver-tongued politician eating from his hands, but something had twisted inside while he was in hiding.

Since the Dark Lord's resurrection he had been prone to bursts of paranoia, secrecy, anger, and violence. He lashed out without cause or warning, and nearly put that fool Pettigrew in a coma after Potter escaped the graveyard last June. Not to mention his growing obsession with the Boy-Who-Lived. His lord spent hours replaying every detail of his interactions with the boy, and he had apparently convinced himself that he had to destroy the child at all costs. It was left up to Lucius to handle the day to day operations of the reborn Death Eaters. Meanwhile, his master continued to create more and more outlandish and elaborate plans of targeting the Potter brat.

It was almost enough to consider arranging a hostile takeover of sorts, were it not for the loyalty oaths embedded within the dark mark. Even now, it had begun to itch, as if it sensed his mutinous ideas. Shaking off his negative thoughts, Lucius felt the spike of the Dark Lords returning power ripple over the wards of the estate and took a moment to review his escape plans one more time, certain that this could not end well.

~~~~GB~~~~

Vernon was just sitting down in his well used lounge chair with a healthy portion of his favorite brandy. His only wish was to watch a bit of telly and relax after dinner when he heard the knock at the door. This was followed shortly after by his wife's shuffling footsteps from the kitchen, where she had been finishing up the dishes before joining him. He heard a muffled exchange of words and before he could even think of raising his glass, his resigned looking wife appeared in the doorway to the hall followed by a rather tall elderly man in an outdated suit. Alarm bells went off in Vernon's mind, having come into contact with the way _those_ people dressed when out in public while picking up his nephew from the train station the past few years. The deep inky purple color of the aged suit as well as the extraordinarily long beard and hair of the man practically screamed 'Freak!' in Vernon's mind. He looked almost longingly at his untouched brandy before sitting it aside.

Petunia took her customary seat at the end of the sofa as she introduced the man. "Vernon, this is the Headmaster of the Boy's school. He's here looking for him. I tried to tell him he's gone, but he wouldn't listen.

Vernon, who was not known for his calm demeanor, and already irritated at having his evening interrupted was further incensed when, rather than take a seat like a normal man, this bearded weirdo pulled out his stick and _drew_ a garish puffy scarlet chair, literally from empty air, to sit on. The nerve of these people, didn't they understand how the _real world_ operated? One didn't just barge into someone's home, especially after a hard day's work. And one most certainly did not use that nonsense when it is clear decent upstanding people like himself did not appreciate it! "Now see here, she's told you he's gone, and everyone's happy about that. Suits him and us both to be rid of each other, so what's all this now? I thought we were finally rid of all this_..._ business." His hand gesture clearly meant to indicate the careless use of unwanted magic in his home.

The Dursleys were greeted with Dumbledore's signature twinkle as he responded; oblivious to any discomfort he had caused. "I was made aware of Mr. Potter's disappearance from your home early this morning, and we have all been worried about him. We can't seem to find him, and I was hoping you would perhaps be able to shed some light on what happened to result in his leaving, or perhaps hazard a guess or two as to where he's gone?"

"To right he's gone and we are all thrilled about it! And I don't know, nor do I much care where he ended up. I'm just glad it's anywhere but here. Could be the basin of a volcano for all the bother I'll afford it. What's this about being made aware though? Are you people watching us?" Vernon's ample mustache had begun shift here and there as he blustered about and waved his hand for emphasis.

Despite the truth in Vernon's suspicions, Albus had enough experience not to further agitate the man, although his negligent attitude over Harry's disappearance only furthered to highlight how big of an error Albus had made in deciding to tolerate the deplorable treatment Harry received here. "As you know, from the letter I left when Harry was given to you, his presence here afforded you certain... _protections_. As the child's o___the_r guardian, I had certain devices which reported the status of these protections to me, and when Harry left the property, they recorded the collapse of these protections. For that to occur it means that both yourselves and Mr. Potter had recognized that this residence was no longer his home. From the letter, I trust you understand what the disappearance of these protections mean?"

Petunia, who had more experience and a more tempered attitude when dealing with the magical world, caught the meaning implied by the headmaster. "Are you saying that we are now in danger from those men that killed Lily? Just because the boy is gone now? Surely they wouldn't come after us! I have gone out of my way to eliminate you from my life as much as possible, and I would have succeeded if you hadn't sent that wildman to collect him!"

The worry and fear in her voice soon riled up Vernon as well, "WHAT?!, You listen here, these men better stay away from my family! We want nothing to do with your stupid wars, go and kill each other off all you want, but you leave us normal people out of it!" Vernon was on his feet and well on his way to purple by this point, throbbing vein and all. "Ever since we took that brat in it's been one thing after another. Dealing with his accidental outbursts, and the owls, so many bloody owls! Plus that floating pudding incident! Do you have any idea how much money losing that deal cost me! Not to mention my poor sister! Having her memories wiped. Now these effing Mentoids or what have you, is it any wonder I've thrown the wretch out?"

Albus had spent the better part of the past month facing tribunals and the sharp tongues of the wizarding press in the wake of the Triwizard Tournament. He had been questioned repeatedly and had his sanity called into doubt over his supposed 'fear-mongering' over the return of Voldemort. He'd lost his positions in the Wizengamot and ICW, only barely retaining the Headmastership with the caveat that this coming school year a ministry observer would be sent to ensure his continued performance in that role. On top of that he'd now been faced with the disappearance of the only person able to save them when Tom inevitably struck. Despite his long history of calm and collectedness in the face of war, teenagers, and politics, his patience was really wearing thin.

With an emotionally charged flick of his wrist, both Dursleys were firmly placed into their seats with a calming charm in effect. Any hint of the kindhearted soul known to so many was absent as his cold gaze focused on the couple before him. "To my eternal shame, I'm perfectly well aware of what you've had to deal with in regards to Harry. Of course we've been watching you, do you honestly think I'd leave a child here and not keep tabs on him? I'm well aware of _exactly_ what went on in this household. And I admit that of all the difficult decisions I've had to make in the century plus that I've stood against the darkness, this one stands above the rest. Sadly my hands were tied in order to protect the boy, and I'm sure I'll pay for that in my next adventure. However, those of us with the power to protect the weak also have a responsibility to use it, and for the good of the many I was forced to let you destroy any semblance of normality or affection in that child's life. This is one of the greatest regrets I've collected in my life, but it stops now! You and Harry have evidently parted ways, and when I find him he will most certainly not be returning here. From this point forth you can rest assured that as far as I can control it, you'll never have to worry about the magical world again. I can't promise the same for the dark lord or his men however, so if I were you I'd look into new surroundings."

With this the Headmaster cast the niceties to the wind and scanned first Vernon than Petunia with legilimency. Having observed their conversation with Harry the night before, yet another issue was brought to light as the rogue Dementors were revealed. Unfortunately, no leads were presented as to Mr. Potter's location.

By this point Albus had let slip enough of his control that the lights had begun to flicker and unconsciously released waves of magic were pushing the furniture away from him, while his beard and hair flicked in a nonexistent wind. The Dursleys, remaining under the effects of his calming charm, still managed to look fearful and nervous.

With a burst of fire Fawkes appeared on his shoulder, emitting peaceful waves to calm not only the emotionally taxed headmaster but also the slightly cowering forms of Petunia and Vernon. Within moments the waves of magic dwindled away and an awkward calm settled around the room. Vernon and Petunia were too much in shock at being dressed down like a couple of school children to speak.

Albus had to collect his thoughts. It had been over sixty years since he had last had such an outburst. He quickly centered himself with an occlumentic exercise and attempted to separate the various stresses of his life from the present situation. With a deep breath and wave of his wand, the living room was once more pristine, and he had cast light memory charms on the Dursleys making them forget anything more than a typical conversation and his warnings of the danger they now faced. They were sitting side by side on the couch, albeit with a dazed look about them.

"I'm terribly sorry for an inconvenience my visit has caused, thank you for the information, and once again, I do implore you to relocate for your safety. Good Day." In less than thirty seconds the Dursley's were left alone casting confused glances at each other wondering what exactly had just occurred.

They were also puzzled by what they were going to do with an overly large bright red chair.

~~~~GB~~~~

Tucked away in an inner office in a building that shouldn't exist, Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge were planning the fall of Albus Dumbledore. The minister was not a strong willed man by any means, but one did not become the Minister for Magic without having a certain amount of skill. As such, while it was unplanned, he was certainly not going to miss the opportunity presented by Albus' backing of the Potter boy's claims. It was simply preposterous to think that He-who-must-not-be-named would come back. All of his top advisors had repeatedly assured Cornelius that the feared dark lord was gone. And in the past ten years, under Fudge's careful leadership, magical Britain had made leaps and bounds to surpass its former glory. Dear Lucius had even pointed out that it was highly likely the brat was suffering mental delusions, possibly as a result of the attack that gave him his famous scar. His favorite financial backer had also pointed out to Fudge that this was almost certainly an attempt by Dumbledore to discredit the minister in the eyes of the public and remove Cornelius from office to take power for himself, claiming all of Cornelius' hard earned praise as his own by defeating the nonexistent 'second coming' of the dark lord.

So it was under the Minister's executive order, and executive budget, that the Headmaster was faced with an investigation and removed from his Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump positions. The campaign in the press, which Cornelius' close friend the editor of the Daily Prophet had orchestrated easily served to sway the public to his side. All that was left was Dumbledore's precious school, and Cornelius would soon have that as well, hence why he had called this meeting with his undersecretary.

For her part, Dolores was just as eager to take down the mighty Dumbledore. For years the old fool had been a thorn in her side concerning her efforts to limit the freedoms afforded to the half-breeds. For some reason he didn't understand that proper wizarding citizens had to be protected from these beasts. The werewolves, the vampires, the goblins, centaurs, mermen, even the giants. Each and every one of them posed a threat to those that truly held the power, and for whatever ungodly reason, Albus Dumbledore continued to champion their cause as 'people'. These foul thieving wretches shouldn't even be allowed to live, much less be thought of as 'people' with actual rights. If she had her way they'd all be slaughtered like the beasts they are.

Given this chance to remove the beasts' hero from grace, Dolores was only oh so happy to be named as the Ministry's representative within Hogwarts this year. It was such a shame the school board had final say over the dismissal of the professors. Every one of them was firmly in Dumbledore's camp, and it had made it impossible for Cornelius to strip him of that position as well. Not to be discouraged, the Minister and his allies had used the poor track record of Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructors to launch an inquiry into the standards of the Hogwarts education and appoint a ministry official to assume the role. Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius' friends in the Wizengamot had also passed through several laws at the last session that permitted such an inquiry to be led by a government appointed representative with the powers and authority to enforce any and all decrees made for the standards of education. Dolores had been tapped for that role.

She was eagerly awaiting the start of the new school term, as her last strike at Dumbledore had unexpectedly failed. She had hoped to expedite Albus' fall from grace by removing the boy-who-lived from his protection, and a trial for underage magic would have been just the thing to put the lying wretch in ministry hands. So Dolores had used her access to send a troop of Dementors to the boy's home, in an effort to either lure him into casting spells, or to remove his soul. Either way it would be a victory. However, the boy had not cast magic, nor had he been harmed, so she would be forced to try again. He would be at her mercy for an entire school year after all.

As their meeting came to a close, Dolores was thrilled with the powers she would wield once September first came around. That school would be hers by Christmas.

Cornelius was thrilled as well, with such a dedicated woman on the job, Dumbledore would be naught but a footnote in his biography.

~~~~GB~~~~

AN: In case anyone is curious, the inspiration for Voldemort's hideaway was Lacock Abbey. For those unaware, it is an actual abbey in Wiltshire that really was a nunnery and fortress. It eventually became the home of the Talbot family, and is most well known for Henry Fox-Talbot, one of the developers of the modern photography system. What is accepted as the first photographic negative features a window from the abbey during one of his many experiments on the property. The abbey also had a role in the first two Harry Potter movies, where it served as the interior shots of Hogwarts corridors. As you may surmise, with no Tom Riddle to purchase it, it went to national trust in the mid forties, and currently serves as a museum.

- Godric


End file.
